


My Brother Comes Home

by hufflepuffsquee



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Ep. 33 - Reunions, Gen, Whitestone arc, depictions of canon violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 19:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7281802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hufflepuffsquee/pseuds/hufflepuffsquee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am on my knees, the floor beneath me cold, the small imperfections of the stone digging into my knees. My scalp feels as though there are needles in it from where Anders is gripping it tight, shushing me. Steel at my throat. Cold. Ice cold, like Silas’ touch.</p><p>“Now. When I tell you. You’ll say what I told you to say. Got it?”</p><p>I nod as best I can, swallowing as hard as I dare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother Comes Home

I am on my knees, the floor beneath me cold, the small imperfections of the stone digging into my knees. My scalp feels as though there are needles in it from where Anders is gripping my hair tight, shushing me. Steel at my throat. Cold. Ice cold, like Silas’ touch.

“Now. When I tell you. You’ll say what I told you to say. Got it?”

I nod as best I can, swallowing as hard as I dare.

I’m not even certain who I am laying this trap for. I saw their effigies in the Sun Tree, I’ve heard the rumors. They say Percival is with them. I want to believe that. I’d give almost anything for it to be true, but with all of the Briarwood’s people out there, with Delilah’s armies… Even if it was once true, it may not be so now.

It will not be so for long, with what I must do at Anders’ hand.

There is a quick series of thumps, obvious footfalls at a dead run. I jump slightly as the door is kicked open and there stands a man, half elven, hair and clothes dark. Then, suddenly there’s a flash of silver through the air from a dagger, then another from a second.

The daggers make contact and Anders recoils. I do not know where the blades made contact, I do not know if the bastard is somehow dead. I know I must warn them, I have to warn them, they cannot die here.

“No! Run, it’s a trap!”

Suddenly, there is pain, white hot fire across the whole of my throat. I try to gasp, but it doesn’t make it to my lungs.

I fall forward, a hand out to catch me, the other pressing has hard as I can to the slash.

I have never realized how truly hot blood is until this moment. It’s not sticky like people say, it’s like water. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears and with each pulse there is another rush of warm over my fingers. I gasp again, and I can feel the air pass over my palm on its way to my lungs, only a meager amount reaching them.

The man has gone past me, and I can hear Anders’ grunts of pain behind me. Teeth gritted, pain clouding my mind, I cannot help but grin at the idea of Anders suffering. I feel blood on my lips as they curl up.

He betrayed my family, people who knew him, and now he will finally see justice for it. I can accept whatever becomes of me so long as he’s dead. I want him dead, I want them all dead.

I recall, through the fog of my mind, that I do not always want them dead. That Delilah -or is it Silas?- does something to me. It won’t matter soon, one way or another.

Armor is moving across the room, attacking the intruder. I press my hand harder to my throat and try to brace myself to rise, but pain prevents me. I gasp again, feeling dizziness creeping in on me. My whole head is pounding, desperate for oxygen I am not getting. The arm I am holding myself up with is trembling and I fear that I will soon fall to the floor.

Suddenly, there is a hand under my jaw, tipping my head up. There is an unholy sensation of the wound opening further and I go to cry out but am unable to. Fearful that I am in Anders’ grip once more, I try to move away, but my body doesn’t respond. However, my eyes soon focus, and I find not Anders, but the man who entered above me. Dark haired, pointed ears, intense face, holding a bottle to my lips. I drink and it is gone too soon, the remainder splashing over the wound in my throat. I can hear stray drops splatter onto the ground before me.

I feel my skin stitching together as he releases me, standing between the armor and myself. I pitch forward again, catching myself on both hands and gasping. This time, the air reaches my lungs and I take in another breath just as desperately. As my head clears, it occurs that the blood that was staining the floor is gone, somehow.

I am still so dizzy, so weak. It feels almost as though I am still bleeding, and my arms are still trembling, hardly able to hold me.

“What the fuck did you do?”

I look up, forcing myself to focus, to see a hulking man in the room with us. Acting solely on instinct, I move to draw back, maneuvering at a crawl.

“Welcome to the party.”

The attacks continue, faster than I can process. Another figure is at the door, skidding into view of the frame. She sees me, red hair flying, and extends a hand with some arcane phrase. I wince, expecting pain, not certain who is friend or foe. The magic washes over me and there is no pain. It feels like a cooled breeze, like a spring wind, and my head clears some. I raise a hand to my throat again, fingers running over smooth skin that I still cannot believe is whole.

And then there is another figure at the door, bolting into the room. I do not know him, but there is smoke pouring from him. I scramble further away, wanting to find some safety or escape, my eyes now on the floor. As I am trying to gather myself to move, Anders speaks again.

“Percy.”

I stop in my tracks, looking around. The stranger is gone and in his place, smoke billowing from the sleeves and collar of a fine blue coat, stands my brother. What of his hair I can see beyond the smoke is white and he’s raised a device much like the one Ripley has built herself. His finger twitches, but nothing happens. He yells, lowering it in what appears a frantic attempt to do a quick repair on the device.

The scream reverberates in way that is wholly unnatural and I gasp, feeling as though my heart has stopped. It does not sound human and it certainly does not sound like my brother.

I hope that the man in this room truly is my brother. My train of thought is interrupted as the half elven man vaults over me to reach Anders. The battle continues on but my gaze has returned to Percy, watching him anxiously. One of Anders’ suits of armor moves for him and I sit up, hands flying to cover my mouth. Two sword strokes meet his back and he seems to take no notice, though I feel fresh tears trickling down over my fingers. I cannot have found him just to lose him. By the love of Pelor I cannot lose him.

Suddenly, I feel what I think is rope wrap around my ankles. In the brief seconds I have to look down, I notice it is a vine. Abruptly, I’m pulled away from the center of the room toward the door, coming to rest on my back next to  the red haired woman.

“Hi.” She breathes with a smile. “Just hang on.”

A scream splits the air and another figure rushes into the room past me, but I am still too out of breath to focus. I’m scrambling, trying to roll, and I finally make my way to my side to search for my brother. He’s vaulted over the table before him, ducking a swordstroke from the armor.

He’s firing his device as he moves for Anders, the shots making deafening bangs as Anders splutters.

“Percival. You disappoint us all. All you had to do was die like a good de Rollo.”

I cannot help but wonder what that makes me in his eyes.

“Traitor!”

Another shot echoes through the room and I feel myself flinch –an action entirely against my own will- at the sound and at the sight of the gore that explodes from Anders’ body. Startled though I am, I cannot help but be pleased at his suffering.

“This land has a greater destiny. You and that fool Ripley… You place your faith in toys and dust. You seek intransient truths.”

My brother pulls a beaked mask down over his face and I cannot help but feel a flash of fear at how chilling his visage is. Smoke is still pouring from him, the origin of which I cannot see and almost do not wish to know. The dark leather of the mask contrasts starkly with his hair.

“I die to rise again. We are his blo-”

The device is in his mouth and Anders makes a choked sound.

“You’re the face I saw when murder entered my heart.” Percy’s voice still has this odd quality to it, louder than it by rights should be and reverberating as though part of a chorus. I am reminded in a backwards way of when he was young and practicing his Celestial. It’s similar, but darker. Twisted. I fear for him. “This is your doing.”

A third short rings out and I squeeze my eyes shut so that I do not see the resulting damage to Anders. I feel almost sick at the satisfaction the knowledge that Anders is finally, finally dead. I keep my eyes shut for the time being, taking in slow, shuddering breaths and trying to stop myself from shaking.

When I finally pry my eyes open, it is to continue staring at my brother as the action carries on around me, noticing the moment when the half elven woman –apparently the person who entered the fray while I was on my back- catches his hand.

“Percival? How are you?”

When my brother looks to her, the turn of his head is slow, the eyes of the mask reflective. The mask almost looks empty because I cannot see his eyes from here.

“Fine.”

“Darling. Take the mask off.”

I find myself mouthing ‘please’ to her request, desperate for my brother to somehow understand. Take the mask off. Be my brother again. Please, be my big brother again.

He pulls off the mask, stepping forward to shoot at the armor that Anders has animated. The sounds are near deafening and I wonder how he can stand to hold the device, much less use it and not flinch as it goes off.

Battle carries the armor closer to me and I curl in on myself, hands over my ears, eyes shut as tightly as I can.

There are gentle hands on me suddenly, the redhead examining me. I uncurl, blinking at her as she gives me a gentle smile. The armor has fallen at last and the room is eerily quiet.

She seems satisfied and gives me a nod before rising.

There’s some commotion, some exchange between the half elf man and the woman who was just examining me, but my eyes are on my brother. He seems… just as startled as I am as what just happened as he cleans the gore from his device. He glances to his companions –apparently a kiss has just happened that no one expected- and goes into a coughing fit so intense it worries me.

Percy stands when the coughs subside, moving to gather some of the arrows that are around the room. He bundles them in one hand, swishing them experimentally. He stands to the side while his companions speak and the red haired woman casts what seems to be another healing spell on the man before her.

The three others have left the room, yelling for Ripley. They must have had her captive and lost her in the excitement of this attack… I cannot help but feel responsible, somehow.

“Vax, are you alright?” My brother asks, and his voice is entirely his own. The corners of my eyes prick again at how good it is to hear him speak.

“Yes. I feel better, thank you.” The half elven man –apparently Vax- replies.

“That’s good.”

My brother raises the arrows and starts to hit Vax in the chest repeatedly, and what looks like with considerable force.

“Don’t go into rooms by yourself, God dammit!”

The red haired woman squeaks and backs up as my brother hits Vax. I’m shocked but I feel a grin creeping across my features at Percy’s actions. I’m not certain if he’s angry that his companion nearly died or that his actions caused me harm, but I find the action oddly endearing. Perhaps it is simply because, for the first time in five years, I’m seeing and hearing my brother.

“Perc… Percival, he was… He had a knife to your sister’s throat.”

“You count to-”

“He was going to kill her.”

“Thank you, but count to ten!” He sound exasperated and fond all at once. He drops the arrows with a shake of his head before turning to me at last.

“I was afraid she was going to die…” Vax murmurs weakly.

“To be fair he did kinda get her throat slit. But it’s okay…” The redhead’s addition goes unnoticed by my brother.

Percy finally looks me in the eye and I feel a lump rise in my throat.

“Percy.”

“H… Hi.” He’s making a complex face and I imagine mine must look so similar. Concern and joy and fear and worry and all manner of emotions wrapped up in one. Years of them, gathered into a singular moment neither of us can quite comprehend.

“Percy?”

“I’m so sorry.”

Even as he’s speaking I’m scrambling to my feet, hurling myself at him to take him in my arms. I hold him tightly as I can, shaking again. Sobs are threatening to rise from my chest but I force them down.

“I’m so sorry for leaving you.” His arms are around me now and I cannot care about anything else.

“I thought you were dead!” I pull away just enough to look him in the face. I’m smiling for what feels like the first time in years. I can’t remember the last time I smiled, I really can’t. I run a hand through his hair, shock white. It matches the streaks in mine. The thought brings a wave of sadness at what caused this and joy that my brother and I are still so similar. “I see we’ve both survived quite a bit.”

“I wouldn’t trade.”

I laugh, another tear escaping. My brother is back with me. Here, whole and real and living. I couldn’t ask for more. I would never dare ask for more because I truly feel there’s nothing more to ask for. I have my brother back.


End file.
